


Supernatural Drabbles

by beatlelover22



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Allergies, Cold, Common Cold, Gen, Illnesses, M/M, Protective Dean Winchester, Sick Castiel (Supernatural), Sick Dean Winchester, Sick Sam Winchester, Sneezing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-26
Updated: 2019-12-10
Packaged: 2020-05-19 22:50:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 18
Words: 5,432
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19365391
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beatlelover22/pseuds/beatlelover22
Summary: In which Dean prays because he’s in pain and sneezing.





	1. Oblique

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Dean prays because he’s in pain and sneezing.

Dean Winchester wasn’t necessarily a praying man, but he sure as hell was praying now.  _Oh god, please don’t let me_ —

Much to his dismay, he bent forward and half-stifled a sneeze under his finger. “ _Heh’ **SHHHNK!**_ ” 

Dean couldn’t help gasping in pain.

“Bless you,” Sam chuckled. “I still can’t believe you tore a muscle coughing. It must be part of your oblique muscles.”

“Id’s by back thad hurds, Sab!” Dean snapped.

“I know, your obliques are— never mind,” he finished, realizing his brother would be grumpy all night. “You want another Advil?”

Dean crossed his arms. “Doe, I just—  _ah’ **SHH!**  Hep’ **SHOO!**_  Fuck!“ He cursed breathlessly, absent-mindedly placing a hand on his tender back.

“Language,” Sam reprimanded him, then laughed. “You know, you were always my best teacher, what with all your cursing.”

“Shud the—” Dean quickly pinched his nose and reared up for a painful stifle. “ _Hh’ **NKKK!**_ Shud the hell ub.”


	2. You Wanna Bet?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Bless you. Bless you. Bless you.”
> 
> “Cas!” Dean interjected. “You don’t have to bless someone every time they sneeze, especially if they’re like Samantha and won’t shut up.”

“Manny Pacquiao is totally gonna crush him, man,” Dean told his brother, taking another swig of beer. 

Sam chuckled, shaking his head. “Oh, right. Algieri won’t win.” The sarcasm was dripping from his voice.

“Do I smell a bet?”

Sam grinned. “You’re on dude.”

“What are you betting on?” a voice behind them inquired. Dean jumped, spilling Sam Adams all over his Black Sabbath T-shirt, and Sam whipped his head around.

“Cas!” they both yelled. “Don’t do that.”

He smiled and sat in between them. “I am sorry for scaring you both.” There was a whoosh as he unfurled his wings and sat back a little. “Why are those two men confined in a square?”

“It’s a b-boxing match,” Sam explained, rubbing his nose. “Th-they’re…  _huh! huh’ **NXXT!**_ ”

“Bless you,” Castiel answered, proud he knew the correct response. 

Dean smiled. “That was quite a girly sneeze, Samantha. But anyway, Manny’s gonna beat his face to the ground but Sam begs to d-differ.” The eldest Winchester quickly cupped a hand around his nose and sneezed twice. “ _Hah’ **SHSHOOO!**  Hep’ **ISHHHHOO!**_ ”

“Bless you,” Cas said politely.

Sam felt like his nose was on fire. He rubbed it, feeling a sneezing fit coming on. It reminded him of when he was younger, how he’d get in the spring. “D-Dean… Can y-you…” He was gesturing across the room, where the tissues were. Dean pretended like he had no idea what he was referring to.

“Hmm?”

Sam’s eyes fluttered shut. “ _Hh’ **GNT!**  Hih’ **KTT!**  H-hihh… ihh’ **KXXXT!**_ Dean!” he managed.  _“T-tissues— her’ **SSHH!**_ ”

“Okay, okay,” Dean said, getting up. “Annnnd… Algieri is d-down—  _hh’ **HUSHOOO!**_ ” 

He tossed the tissues at Sam, who was still sneezing helplessly into his jacket and raised his eyebrows as Castiel blessed him after every sneeze.

“J-Jesus, what the hell?” Dean jammed two fingers under his nose, staving off the sneeze. “Are we  _hehhhh_ … h-hexed?”

“ _Nn’ **CHHT!**  Ihhh… hihH! Hih’ **NXT!** Huh’ **KKKT!**_ ” Sam sneezed.

“Okay, d-don’t answer  _hahhh_ … that.” He rubbed at his nostrils vigorously.

“Bless you. Bless you. Bless you.”

“Cas!” Dean interjected. “You don’t have to bless someone every time they sneeze, especially if they’re like Samantha and won’t shut  _up._ ”

“I c-cad’t help id!  _Nn’ **CHH!**_ ”

Dean squinted at the angel. “Cas… are your wings out?”

“Yes. Why?”

He roughly rubbed his twitching nose. “They d-don’t—  _Hur’ **ESHHHOO!**  _Agree with us.”

“Bless you,” Castiel responded, folding his wings in. “Sam, Algieri is indeed on the ground.”

“D-dammit!  _Nn’ **GNNT!**_ I’ll— _hihh… hih’ **SHHH!**_ Be righd b-back.”

“Bless you.”

“I think we have some antihistamines in the cabinet,” Dean laughed, blowing his nose a bit.


	3. Our Father

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Castiel has a sneeze kink.

“ _ **HDDZSHH!**_ ” Dean sneezes roughly into his elbow. The bless you that follows comes so fast it’s almost precognitive. Dean looks up quickly to see Cas watching him from the corner of the room.

“Cas! Dod’t do thad!” Dean snaps, rubbing his nose. Castiel calmly walks over to where Dean is, sitting comfortably on the couch, and joins him. “You called me.”

“I did dot!”

“Yes, you did.” In truth, Castiel’s lying but he only briefly recognizes this as a sin. He watches Dean’s eyes flutter shut and his nostrils quiver.  _Father in Heaven,_  Cas thinks. He knows exactly what will happen next.

“ _Huh’ **HATZSHH!**  Hup’ **ESCHHHUH!**_ ”

“Bless you,” the angel says, glancing curiously at Dean’s reddened nose and watering eyes. “What is the matter with you?”

Dean rolls his eyes and pretends to be insulted. “Excuse be?”

“The excessive water trying to escape your eyes, the change in your vocal quality and the repeated—”

“Ond second—” Dean interjects quickly before turning away from him. “ _Hur’ **ASHOO!**_ ” He shakes his head as if to clear it. “Whew, sorry. I’b sick. Id’s kind of complicaded.”

“Your nose ails you?” 

Castiel asks this in such a serious tone that Dean has to laugh a bit. “Yeah, I guess you could say thad.”

“Here?”

Before Dean can protest, Castiel’s hand is on the hunter’s nose.

“C-Cas stop, you’re gonna bake be…  _hhh_ … c’mon, I hafta—  _ **ATZSHHCHSH!** ”_ Dean’s cheeks flush from embarrassment.

“Bless you,” Castiel responds, matter-of-factly.

Dean turns away, grumbling, and snatches close to eight tissues, not hesitating to bury his face in them. “Why’d you do thad?” he demands.

 _Holy Mary, Mother of God, pray for us sinners…_  “I do not have a good answer.” Dean’s sneezes just intrigue him. Surely there can’t be anything more to it than that.

Dean turns to look at him. “Waid a secod. Do you like id when I…?”

“No,” Castiel says, far too quickly.

“ _ECTSHCH!_ ”

“Yes,” he admits, guilty.  _Father forgive me_.


	4. Strength

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Castiel is sick and injured and Crowley is there to help.

Castiel both extremely dizzy as well as weak when Crowley found him. He was also sick and on top of the blood loss, he wasn’t in the best of states. On top of that, he was frightened and alone.

“Oh, boy. Did Cassy get in a fist fight?”

“Crowley.” Castiel’s voice was barely above a whisper and he figured the demon hadn’t quite heard him. Suddenly, his nose twitched.  _“Hh’ **ISHHH!** ”_ 

He’d been doing that a lot lately, for who knows why. Crowley’s smug face faded in and out of the angel’s vision.

“Bless,” The Kind of Hell said politely. “Not catching cold, are we?”

As if on cue, Castiel shuddered and closed his lips into a thin line, trying not to sneeze again. “I’m… fine.”

“Oh, yes, clearly,” Crowley rolled his eyes. “I could tell by the pints of blood you’ve obviously lost. And that cold.”

Castiel started to argue but he didn’t get the chance. “ _Ahh… hah’ **ASHHOO!**  Heh’ **ISHH!**_ ” 

He didn’t mean to, but he groaned a bit. He couldn’t help it; everything hurt.

“Alright, alright, quit your whining. God.” Crowley knelt down next to him and reached inside his coat pocket, revealing a bottle of Grace. Castiel knew whose it was with a sinking feeling in his stomach.

“Th-that’s not mine.  _Hih’ **ISHH!**_ ”

“Only difference is, you need your strength; she doesn’t anymore,” he said. “Now drink up, Angel.” He parted Cas’s lips and the light made its way into him, filling him up with power and warmth.

“Much better, isn’t it?”


	5. Devil Worship

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Devil worship? It's not what it looks like.

Dean knew it was impossible for Death to go on holiday and Sam knew it was impossible that Dean could be sick at a time like this. Yet, both theories were proving themselves to be true, slowly but surely.

“ _Hh’ **CSHH!**_ ” Dean attempted to muffle the sound of his sneeze behind his hand. “ _Hih’ **XXXNT!**_ ”

Sam rolled his eyes, placing the bowl of liquid down. “Dean, it’s like two in the morning. I doubt anyone’s even interested in being in a cemetery at this hour. No need to kill yourself trying to hold in your sneezes.” Then for good measure, he added, “You’re sick. It happens.”

“I’b dot sick,” he argued, sniffing lightly. “You sure this is godda work?”

“It should smoke the kid right out of his grave, so to speak.”

“Good, ‘cause I have to—  _hur’ **SHHHT!**_ ”

“Hey!” an unfamiliar voice barked.

Suddenly, a flashlight was shining directly in Dean’s face. He blinked a few times before giving into the sneeze. “ _Huh’ **SHHAHH!**_ ”

Sam searched for words. “Um…”

Meanwhile, the man glanced around at the various candles and ingredients. “What the hell’s all this?!”

“This… this is uh, dot whad id looks like.”

“Really? ‘Cause it looks like devil worship!”

“Whad?!” Dean feigned shock. “Devil…? Devil worship? Doe, doe… This is uhh… dot thad. Id’s uh…. I don’t have a good answer.”

“Listen, um, my brother’s sick—”

Dean shot him an annoyed look.

“—and we’re leaving,” Sam finished, nodding. “Yeah, so. Leaving.”

“You’re not going anywhere.”


	6. A Nice-Smelling Waitress

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Dean is a stereotypical disaster bi.

“Dude, I am ravenous,” Dean informed Sam as they both sat down in a run-down booth.

Sam quirked an eyebrow. “Ravenous? What, you studying up for the SAT?”

“Just trying to match your uppity vocabulary.”

“Uppidty? Dean, do you even know what that mea—”

“Hi,” the waitress interrupted. “What can I get y’all to drink?”

Dean could barely focus what with her tight uniform on: a checkered white and red blouse with a matching, solid miniskirt. He could see every curve on her and it was breath-taking. She smelled nice too. Kind of like—

“ _Heh’ **XSHHUHH!**  Hh’ **NITCHOO!**_ ” He let out two sneezes before quickly rubbing his nose.

His brother cleared his throat awkwardly. “Can I have a water, please?” Sam said, taking the silence as a cue to speak.

“I’ll have a Coke, thanks.” Dean winked at the girl before watching her walk away.

Sam decided to get straight to the point. “You getting sick?”

Dean scoffed. “No.”

“Because you never sneeze unless—”

“I’m not sick,” he told his brother, sniffling unconvincingly.

As soon as the waitress came back, his nose started itching again.

“Here’s your water and here’s your—”

Dean brought a hand to his face before sneezing into it. “ _Hah’ **SHHH! ARSHHH!**_ ”

“Bless you.” The waitress smiled at him kindly before handing him a glass of water. “What can I get y’all to eat?”

“Caesar salad,” Sam answered.

“That’s all?”

“Yep.”

The young woman turned to Dean. “You?”

He fought back the urge to sneeze as her perfume hit him again. “I’ll uh, have a double b-bacon cheeseburger with fries.  _Ek’ **TISHHOO!** K’ **SHHH!**_ I’m  _suhh_ … sorry, h-hold on.” 

He blindly groped the table for some napkins before blowing his nose roughly. “And an order of onion r-rings.”

“We have soup, too, I think,” she offered, giving him a sympathetic smile.

“No thanks,” Dean muttered. “Burger’s fine.”


	7. Two of Us

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Dean has a kink and wants to see Cas sneeze.

“Cas, have you ever sneezed?” Dean asked, out of the blue.

The angel looked up from the television. “Sneezed? I do not know.”

“Well, can angels…? You know.”

Sam rolled his eyes. “He wants to know if you’re physically able to sneeze. He has a—”

“I’m curious!” his brother interjected. “Can’t a guy be curious any more?”

Castiel pondered the question carefully. “I do not see why I would not be able to, I just do not remember ever… doing it. I think I would have been able to recall by now. I would be willing to try.”

“Hmm.” Dean pretended to be a lot less interested than he actually was. His heart was beating as fast as it was able. “Well, the pollen count is pretty high today. We could try that.”

“I sneeze because of the… weather?”

“Not necessarily because of the weather,” Sam told him. “Pollen is a common irritant to humans, ergo, a common allergy. Dean’s hoping it’ll be enough to make you—”

“Alright, great. Let’s go,” Dean said, slamming the screened door behind him and Cas.

* * *

“Okay, here. All you have to do is smell it.” Dean handed the angel a chrysanthemum.

He stared at it before taking a hesitant sniff. Dean shook his head. “No, I mean really smell it.”

Castiel stuck his nose into the flower and inhaled deeply. Nearly immediately, his nose began tickling. “ _Ehh… hehhH! He’ **kASHOOO! TSHOOO!**  Hurr’ **ASHHHH!**_ ” 

Dean quickly snatched the flower away from his friend. 

“Wow,” Cas breathed. “That was… intense for my vessel.”

“That makes two of us.”


	8. Once More Changing Channels

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Remember “Changing Channels”? If only this scene had been included.

Sam sighed, eyeing the soccer field of guys. “This is stupid.” 

His brother, Dean, shrugged. “I don’t know man, I think you have to do it.”

The younger brother nodded and jogged out on the field. Immediately, his nose began to itch. “ _Hh’ **TISHH!**  Ehhh… hah’ **iTISHH!**_ ” 

He sniffled, rubbed his nose on his wrist and started to speak. “I’m Sam Winchester and I’ve got  _ahhh_ … allergies.  _Her’ **ESSH!**_ ” 

Sam adjusted the jersey he was wearing and felt a breeze as his team-mates zoomed past him.

“Soccer’s my favorite sport to play with my friends. Unfortunately, the grass is t-torture on my —  _hh’ **KISHHH!**_ — nose. It was hard for me to think outside the box: the tissue box that is.  _Ihhh… hih’ **ITISHHH!**_ ”

Dean desperately tried to hide a chuckle behind his fist.

“That’s why I turned to Aller-Go. Aller-Go stops my sneezing so I can score.” 

A nearby player passed Sam the ball and he took the shot, easily scoring it in the net. “If you’re on the go, choose Aller-Go.”

Dean felt himself being whisked off into another scenario and knew Sammy had done them right.


	9. Prank’d

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Castiel pranks Dean and Dean is allergic to said prank.

“You did what?” Sam Winchester asked incredulously.

Castiel looked sheepish. “I thought it would be considered a… prank.”

“Soaking Dean’s clothes in cheap perfume? Well, it’s definitely a prank, Cas. Just a pretty mean one for a guy — angel — like you.”

“You and Dean engage in ‘prank wars’ very frequently; I was merely trying to… experience the same thing?”

Sam let out a barking laugh. “Welcome to the club then, buddy.”

Just then, Dean burst out of the bedroom, sneezing. “Sam, dammit! You know I’m allergic to this st-stuff!” His entire face went slack. “ _Hihh’ **ISHHSHH!**_ ”

Sam started to explain that actually, he hadn’t been the one to screw with Dean this time, when Cas began to laugh. It was a rare sight and both brothers stared at him.

“I guess you could say I ‘got you good!’” Cas tried to contain his laughter.

“ _Ha’ **ATSCH!** Hur’ **CHOOO!**_ You did this to me?”

“I pranked you Dean!”

Dean just looked confused. “You pranked me? Why?”

Cas’ face fell. “To be funny. You and Sam to it to each other often! Was it not humorous?”

“ _T’ **SCHHUH!**_  Uh, no, not funny. My nose is burning and I—”

Sam shook his head. “No Cas, trust me, that was a good one!”

The angel beamed.

“But you better run before he gets you back.”

“Run? Sam, you do know that as an angel, I can merely—”

Dean sneezed angrily as he stepped towards Cas, half-joking, half-serious. “ _Er’ **SHOO!**_  I’b gudda get you for this!”


	10. Never Let Go

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean has a confession to make.

“ _Huh... **TSHHHOOO!**_ ” Dean swayed in the doorway and clutched the door-frame for support.

Sam’s head whipped up from his computer screen in surprise. “Dean? I thought I told you to stay in—”

The elder Winchester’s eyes were red-rimmed and watery. His nose, tinged pink around the nostrils, was flaring wildly and with a final twitch, gave in to the monstrous sneeze. “ _Hehh... **DZSHHHHHH!**_ ” His hand gripped the frame tightly as he reared up for another one. “ _Uhh... huhhh... HUhhH!_ ” A lost cause.

Sam shut his laptop and sighed. “Bless you. I thought I told you to stay in bed?”

 _Sdddff._  He rubbed his nose miserably. “I doe bud... I hab to tell you somethig.”

“Yeah?”

“I lied whed I said I didn’t cry durig Titanic. I did cry whed Jag led go,” Dean sniffled. “Sorry, Sabby.”

Sam slid back his chair. “Okay, let’s go back to bed. It’s your fever talking, you know that?”

“ _ **HASHUHHH!**  Ehh!  **EKSHHHOO!**_ ”

“I’ll put you in bed one last time and then you stay there, okay? At least until your fever goes down.”

“Ogay...  _hahhh... **kSHHHH!**_ ”


	11. Complicated

“ _Ah’ **XXSHHH!**_ ” Dean sneezed roughly into the back of his hand, earning quite the glare from his father.

“Bless you,” Sam offered quietly as the men walked along. They were hunting a wendigo and Dean had forgotten to take his allergy medicine, a fact that would piss off his dad for sure.

Eyes watering, Dean’s stomach tightened. His nosed itched something awful and that one sneeze hadn’t done anything. “Ugh...” He scrubbed his nose with the back of his hand as John trailed ahead. “ _Ahh... hahhH!_ ” His breath caught, but he was able to pinch his nose successfully. “ _Hh’ **GGNT!**_ ”

Sam looked at him suspiciously. “Did you forget to take your allergy medicine again?”

“Doe,” Dean answered thickly. 

When Sam rolled his eyes, Dean clarified. “Well, id’s c-complicated.”

“I’ll take that as a ‘yes,’” Sam said. “Do you need a tissue? I think we have some napkins back in the ca—”

“Doe!” Dean interrupted. “I’b dot a s-sissy like —  _hah’ **KSH!**  Hep’ **SNNK!**_  — like you.”

Sam shrugged. “Okay.”

Dean’s breath caught in his throat yet again and he stopped, gasping. “ _Ehh.... hihh... hih’ **TISHOOO** ’uh!_”

“Dean!” John whipped around, rifle dropping from its previous position. “What’s with you?”

The eldest brother sniffled against his hand, trying to stand a bit straighter. “I’b fide.”

“No, you aren’t. Your sneezing is putting all of us in jeopardy.”

“It’s not his fault, Dad!” Sam began, but the words were lost on John.

“We’re going back to the car,” John announced, turning around.

Dean’s face fell. “Doe, please. I’ll b-be quied!” He firmly pressed a knuckle under his nose, to no avail. “ _Hup’ **XKKT!**_ ”

“Let’s go,” John said with a sigh.


	12. Crazy Cat Ladies

“You ready?” Dean asked, pulling the Impala into the witness’ driveway and glancing at Sam.

“As always,” he replied, and the two stepped out of the vehicle.

Dean had barely reached up to knock on the door when an elderly lady answered it. “Hello?”

“Hi.” Sam smiled warmly. “I’m Agent Lincoln and this is Agent...”

“Clay,” Dean supplied helpfully.

“Right. We’re with the FBI, investigating the death of your daughter, Susan.”

The woman’s eyes were brimming with tears. “Yes. Susie. Come in, come in.” 

She led the boys through the house, into the living room. The brothers sat on the couch while she perched in front of them on a rocking chair. “What can I do for you boys?”

“We just want to know what happened to Susan,” Dean told her, taking out a notebook. “Tell us everything you know.”

As she began talking, Sam took the opportunity to turn away and scrub at his nose. All of a sudden, it was itchy and tickling like mad. He rubbed it a bit harder and took an experimental sniff, which proved to be a mistake. 

“ _Hah! Hh’ **HNGSSXH!**_ ” He sneezed loudly into a fist, a failed stifle, making both his brother and the victim jump. “Wow. Um, excuse me.”

“Uh... bless you?” Dean quirked an eyebrow, speaking in a language only they knew.  _You okay?_

Sam nodded.  _Fine._

“Well,” the woman began. “I had just dropped off Susan’s granddaughter Martie off at ballet—”

“Excuseme—” Sam rushed to get the words out before turning away from the pair and letting off a series of sneezes. “ _Hh’ **KSHH!**  Hup’ **XSHSHH!** Hah... huhH! Huh’ **XSHHOO** ’uh!_”

“Bless you, dear. Coming down with a cold?” She smiled at him politely.

Sam wiped at his streaming, red eyes, trying to look composed. “N-no ma’am.” 

These sneezes were starting to sound like his allergy sneezes and Dean knew it too. “Do you have a cat?” Dean asked, setting the notepad aside.

The woman nodded. “Mmhmm. Three. Cocoa, Mary, and Butters.”

Sam’s stomach tightened instinctively. “P-pardon—  _hh’ **TSCH!** Eh’ **TCHOO!** Hihhh... ihhh... ih’ **SHHP!** Her’ **ESHH!** Hehh... ahhH!_” The youngest Winchester gasped, desperate for the sneeze to come out.

Dean stood up. “Um, Agent... Lincoln? Maybe we should—”

“ _Huh’ **ARSCHHSHHHH!**_ ” By now, Sam’s trembling nose was running and he held his wrist against it in an attempt at composure.

“Sorry ma’am,” Dean apologized, dragging his brother by the arm. “Allergies. We’ll, uh, be right back.”

“Oh, of course!”

Dean helped his brother out the door, who was still helplessly trying to get the sneezes out. “ _Hh! H-huhhhh... hihH!_ ”

“Take it easy, Big Guy,” he told Sam, helping him into the car. “I think you just made history. What was that, 11 billion sneezes?”

Sam glared at him through glassy eyes. “ _C-cahhhh..._ c-cad you dot?”

“Okay, sorry. I’m gonna finish up with this lady. You just uh.... you just wait here.”


	13. Illness and Injury

The bullet didn’t just graze him; Dean felt it bite him and travel inside him, inside his shoulder. He let out a strangled hiss and ducked behind a tree, leaning up against it for support. 

“Shit,” he cursed through gritted teeth.

“Come out, come out, wherever you are...” The monster’s voice seemed to travel on the wind, echoing all around him.

Dean grunted, clamping a hand to his shoulder. “I didn’t know monsters need guns.” 

He was interrupted by a loud gunshot. Dean peered around the tree trunk, only to find his brother leaning over the corpse of a shifter. 

“You’re good,” Dean said, wheezing.

“Thanks, I—” Sam’s eyes drifted from Dean’s forced smile to his bleeding shoulder. “Did you get shot?”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah... don’t rub it in.” He sniffled, not wanting to move his hand from his shoulder. Sam quickly grabbed Dean’s hand and moved it away, so as to inspect the wound closer.

“Dean... the bullet’s still in your arm and it might even be in fragments. We need to get you to—”

Dean felt the tickle in his nose long before he actually sneezed. The harder he tried to fight it, the more he had to sneeze. 

Finally, as Sam was watching his twitching nose in curiosity, Dean turned his head. “ _Huh’ **SHHH** ’shit!_” The abrupt movement wreaked havoc on his busted shoulder.

“Oh, great. Tell me you’re not getting sick,” Sam groaned, leading him to the car.

“Most people just say ‘bless you,’” Dean responded as a shiver ripped through him.

* * *

Hours later, Sam had a chipped bowl full of bullet fragments and Dean’s shoulder was wrapped in bandages. And it was clear he was sick.

“I’m gonna get some water,” Dean announced, swinging his legs off the couch.

“Like hell you are,” Sam replied. “I’ll get it.”

“I’m sick, not use... useless.” he said breathlessly, eyes fluttering shut. “ _Huh... huh’ **SHHH!** Heh’ **SHOO!**  Ahhh... ahhH!_” He pinched his nose shut and bobbed forward. “ _Hahh_...” He exhaled, arm throbbing in pain.

Sam returned with a glass of water and another blanket. “Best to conserve heat when you’ve been shot... and you happen to be sick at the same time.”

Dean coughed and shuddered. “I’b so sigg of sd-sdeezing.”

“I think you’re just sick, period.”

Dean gave him a look.

“Just don’t them in, it’s not gonna help you,” Sam told him, changing the channel.

“Bud id hurds whed I  _sd-sdehhh_... sdeeze,” he said, breath hitching. “ _Ahh... hahhh... hahH!_ —” 

Dean brought his hand up to his nose, prepared to hold it back, but Sam grabbed his wrist at the last minute, preventing him from doing so. 

“ _Hh’ **DZSHSHCH!**_ ”

“That was a big one,” Sam said, passing his brother the tissues.

“Sab, sh-shud the fugg up.”


	14. Simply Sadistic

Castiel was sick, Dean was fretting, and Crowley was absolutely loving it. How simply sadistic. In truth, he was just... watching them.

“ _Hh’ **TSCH!**_ ” Castiel’s head bobbed as he stifled a tiny, itchy sneeze. “ _Huh’ **NKT!**_ ”

“Bless you,” Dean told him, immediately at Castiel’s side with a box of tissues. “Feelin’ any better?”

“Since the last five minutes? Well, unfortunately, I can’t tell a difference.” He punctuated his sentence with a quiet snuffle.

“I’m sorry, man. Maybe teaching you to hunt on a rainy day wasn’t the best idea. I didn’t mean to let you get sick—”

Castiel’s nostrils flared and he pinched his nose quickly. “ _Ph’ **SHHP!**_ ”

“Bless.” Dean sat on the bed with him and handed him a tissue anyway. “You feeling hot at all?” Dean cleared his throat awkwardly. “Just ‘cause, you know, your face looks a little flushed.”

Crowley loved tender moments like this. It was just too good.

“No, actually,” Castiel responded with a shiver. “Cold.”

“I know, I know. It’s okay.” Dean ran his fingers through the soft, brown hair, brushing his sweaty bangs back. “It’s just the, uh, fever.”

“I’m tired.” Castiel yawned, sniffling a bit.

“I know.” Dean told him again. “Do you want me to, um...” He was so bad at this. “I’ll— I’ll go get you some water.”

* * *

Of course, Crowley was waiting for him in the kitchen.

“Holy shit!” Dean cursed, jumping back eight feet. “What the hell are you doing here?”

Crowley shrugged. “I just wanted some water.”

The eldest Winchester aggressively pushed past him, irritated. As he was filling up a water glass, Crowley started to speak again. “You know Dean, the feelings you have for him — they’re normal.”

Dean whipped around. “What’re you talking about?”

“Your little crush on the angel. Oh, c’mon. It’s obvious. And it’s your heart song.”

“Heart song—? I don’t know what you mean, but Cas is sick and he needs me.” Dean said, gesturing to the other room. “You can leave now.”

Crowley smirked. “Or I could watch the show.”


	15. It's the Dog

“Dean. Hello.”

Dean almost dropped his cell phone in surprise. He hadn’t heard from Castiel in days and hearing his voice, even coming through crackly on his shitty burner was wonderful.

“Cas, are you okay? What the hell is going on?”

On the other end, Castiel sniffled into the receiver. “Metatron tricked me, Dean. I… I don’t have my grace.”

“Super. We’ve got another problem,” Dean told him, biting his lip. “Sam, he’s… dying. Didn’t you hear my prayers?”

“My grace, Dean. It means… I don’t have my powers anymore.”

Dean heard him sniffle again and wondered if he might be crying. “What? So what do we do?”

“Don’t worry about me,” Castiel assured him. “Just—  _h-heh’ **TSHHHH!**_ ”

Dean paused before speaking again, wondering if he heard right. “Hey, uh, Cas? Was that a—”

“ _H-hihh_ … h-hold on, Dean, I—  _huhH! Hh’ **TSCHSHHH!**_ ”

“Oh, wow. Bless you, I guess? I didn’t think angels could— oh, right.”

Castiel sighed. “Now that I’m technically human, I guess I should get used to this. How often do humans —  _h-heh’ **TSHHHUH!**_  — how often do humans sneeze?”

“Honestly, not this often,” Dean remarked, running his hand through his hair. “Do you think you could’ve caught a cold or something?”

“A cold?”

Castiel paused, considering. “Well, I met another angel and she’s lost. She has an animal that follows her around — a dog. I think—”

“Cas, you’ve got to lay low, man. They’re other angels around here and they’re pissed and searching for you.”

“Not this one. She’s just lost and needs — h-hang on, I have to —  _h-hihhh… ihHH! Heh’ **TSHHH!**_ She just needs direction,” Castiel stammered, breath hitching. “I—  _o-ohh… hh’ **TSSCHHH! TSHHHHSHUH!**_ ”

“Jesus, bless you,” Dean said, starting to worry. “Hey, are you sure you’re not coming down with— wait.”

He shook his head, smiling. “Cas, did you say that girl had a dog with her?”

“Y-yes,” Castiel choked out before sneezing into the receiver again.

“Cas, buddy. I think you might be allergic to dogs.”

“ _A-ahhh_ … allergic?”

“Yeah, you know,” Dean said, trailing off. “Certain things can make you really itchy or start sneezing or something.”

“S-so the dog is to —  _heh’ **TSSCHHH!**_  — the dog is to blame?” Cas snuffled, running a finger under his twitching nostrils. “Alright. But how do I get it to stop?”


	16. A Polka-Dot Umbrella

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Dean has to protect his masculinity at all costs.

“Dean, stop being such a baby,” Sam told him as they walked down a long street of apartments to meet a client. 

Dean sniffled and rubbed his nose with the back of his wrist.

Rain was pouring down in buckets and Dean, despite still trying to get over a headcold, refused to be seen under an umbrella with his brother.

“I’b god a jacket, I dod’t deed ad ubrella. Especially ode thad’s covered in p-polka  _dahh_... d-dots.” He tossed the hood of his jacket over his head and shivered a little.

Sam rolled his eyes. “Oh, right. We’ve got to protect your masculinity at all costs.”

“ _Huhh... heh’ **ETSHHOO!**_ ” The eldest Winchester sneezed into the crook of his arm. 

He cleared his throat. “’Scuse be.”

“Bless you.” 

Sam studied his brother, water dripping from his hair and cheeks. He was shaking and that worried him. 

“Dean, please. You’re soaking wet.”

“I’b fide, Sab. Id’s jusd a little cold outside.” 

He discreetly swiped at his nose. “D-dabbit, I g-godda  _sdeehhh_... sd-sdeeze--  _hur’ **ESSHOO! ASHOO!**  Hahh... ahhH! Hah’ **ISCHHHOO!**_ ” 

With the force of the sneeze, he stumbled a few steps and slipped off the curb, falling backwards until Sam grabbed his elbow. “Dude. This is ridiculous. You’re going to hurt yourself.”

Dean pulled away from him, sniffling so as to stop his nose from running. “Doe I’b dot.” 

His eyes watered, then glazed over as his nostrils flared and hinted at an impending sneeze. “ _Hihhh... ihhhH!_ ”

“Oh no you don’t,” Sam muttered, yanking Dean by his side underneath the umbrella.

“ _Huh’ **SCHHHOO!**  Huh... hur’ **RRESHSHOO!**_ ”

“Jesus, Dean!”

“I dod’t like this st-stupid ubrella,” he informed Sam, teeth chattering together.

“I don’t care.”


	17. A Path Diverged

The boys were on the way to Uncle Bobby’s house, as it was nearing Christmas Eve, and they were stuck at a fork in the road. They’d been parked in front of the diverging paths for about 15 minutes and Dean was getting frustrated. 

“Sab, I kdow where I’b goig!”

Sam chuckled. “You know you sound ridiculous when you have a cold, right?”  

“Doe I dod’t...” he paused, hearing himself through Sam’s ears. “Okay, okay. Shuddup. Id doesd’t bean I dod’t kn-know where I’b—  _heh’ **DZSHHSHSHHH!**_ ”

“Bless you. That was some sneeze,” Sam commented, watching as Dean’s nose twitched. 

Dean stared out the window, nostrils still flaring. “I’b dot done  _sd-sdeeeh_... sdeezing.” 

With a very audible gasp, Dean ducked away from his brother — hands still gripping the steering wheel tightly — and let out two strong sneezes that left him dizzy. “ _Hah’ **ARSHHSH!**  Huh... huhh! Hup’ **SHHHAHH!**_ ” 

He snuffled and glanced up, staring at the fork in the road through watery eyes. “Sab, I’b sure id’s left.” 

“Dean,” Sam told him gently. “It’s right. I promise. I wouldn’t steer you wrong.”

“I hade puds.” 

“You do not hate puns—” 

He was interrupted by Dean’s desperate hitching. “ _Hihh! Hihhh..._ I’b godda — _**HURSHSHHH!**  Ah’ **SSSHHHXNNNK!**  _Sab, I deed a — _NN’ **ATCHCHSHCH!**_ ” 

Sam was already pressing a wad of tissues into Dean’s shaking hands. 

“Here, switch with me. I’m driving,” Sam told him, unbuckling his seatbelt. 

“Sab,” Dean said, both exasperated and tired. “I kdow where I’b g-going.”

“I know,” Sam replied, trading seats with Dean. He put the car into drive and when Dean was too busy gurgling into a tissue to notice, took a right and headed down the road.


	18. Cold Shower

“You can ask me any question you want,” Sam scoffed at the woman in front of him. “The answer’s going to be the same: Screw. You.”

The woman frowned at him. “You want to get mad? You want to get mean?”

“I’ve been tortured by the Devil. You’re just an accent in a pantsuit. What can you do to me?”

With a click of her pen, she stood up and turned a faucet. Within seconds, a stream of cold water hit Sam from above. He blinked in surprise, then laughed.

“A cold shower? Really?” He tilted his head back and let the water sweep his hair out of his face.

But within minutes, he was shivering fiercely. “S-screw you,” he sputtered, completely soaked.

***

A few torturous hours later, Sam felt the water trickling to a stop. Well, he didn’t really feel it — he was nearly numb. But the woman did turn off the faucet to talk to him.

He sniffled, hands still bound behind him, and wished he could rub his nose. Sam had been feeling slightly under the weather the past day and this little experience certainly hadn’t helped.

“ _H-hehhH! Hh’ **TSCHHH!**_ ” Water flicked off the ends of his hair as he sneezed. He sniffled again and glared at her, still attempting to look intimidating, but his sneeze echoed. 

“Can we stop this Sam?”

Sam’s lip trembled and though he willed it away, the second sneeze came roaring back full force. “ _Hah’ **PSSCHHH!**_ ”

“Listen,” she began, a hint of sympathy in her voice. “I need you to give me names and locations.”

“Maybe you can t-tie them to a chair. M-maybe you do worse. B-but maybe — _hh’ **TSSSCHHUH!**_ — maybe you can go to Hell,” he stuttered, trying to talk through the sneeze.

She clucked her tongue. “My, my. It sounds like you may be coming down with something.”

“S-screw you,” he snarled, with as much energy as he could muster.


End file.
